


The Peak Of Curioisity

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Eye Sex, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: This man was his wet dream, or even better, this man was straight out of his comics. A smirk thats sharp like a knife and a shirt covered in blood. Slicked back hair and hooded eyes. Bruised knuckles and old enough to be his daddy. He was dirty and bad and wrong and that was just how Carl liked it. Some would say its sick, Carl would just say it's interesting. Carl couldn't take his eyes off him. The fact that his dad was arresting him only made it better. Carl bit his lip and balled his hands onto fists, digging his nails into his palms.





	The Peak Of Curioisity

"How was school?" Rick asked, leaning back against his seat. Too comfortable, too relaxed. Carl stayed silent as he climbed into the police car, slamming the door shut. He stuffed his bag into the floor, avoiding his father's gaze. "You know, if you were still six I would ask if you wanted to play with the sirens, but I don't think 18 year old you is impressed anymore." He nudged Carl. "C'mon, tell me about your day. Why are you angry?" 

"Why am I not angry?" Carl laughed. It was only half a joke. "No one wants to invite me to do anything because The Rick Grimes is my dad and where I am you follow. You're not even a helicopter parent, more of a sniper parent. Can't see you, but you're there and you're ready to shoot everything down." Carl looked at his dad and sighed. He loved him, he really did, but when your dad is the sheriff no one wants to invite you to parties. 

"Another party?" Rick asked, pulling out of the parking space and into the line of traffic. "Look, I know me being your dad isn't easy, but.." He sighed. "I don't know how to turn this into a positive. I guess it's just... it sucks and kids are dumb and you'll be going to frat parties before you know it." Carl was smiling now. It was small, but it was a smile. Mission accomplished. "A frat party at a college far, far away from your loving father." Rick wrapped an arm around Carls shoulder and pulled him into his side. "I'm gonna miss you." 

Carl pressed into his father's chest, closing his eyes. He wouldn't admit to liking it. Especially not around all of his friends. But he did love his dad. And he admired him. He pushed away, shaking his head. "You act like I'm traveling to California or something. The college I applied for is only three hours away. You could probably get there in an hour and a half if you turned your lights on."

Rick ran his fingers through Carls hair, smiling. "Are you saying you want your embarrassing dad to visit you? At college? Around all your cool friends?" He laughed when Carl slapped his hand away. "I'll visit, but I won't embarrass you too bad. I'll just tell them all about how when you were a kid you would talk to trees and say they were your friends."

"Dad!" Carl groaned, slamming himself back against the seat dramatically. "I was an only child for so long. I wanted friends and there were no kids on our street. Desperate times call for desperate measures." He crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be mad. 

"You know, for how much you hate me you do look a lot like me. Especially with your little glare." Rick nudged him again. "Look, I know hanging out with your lame dad won't fix asshole kids being afraid of inviting a cops son somewhere, but your lame dad does have money." Rick held his finger in the air. "Specifically, ice cream money." 

Carls smile only grew. "Cookie dough?" He grinned, grabbing his dad's arm. "You gotta let me get cookie dough. My grades are perfect and..." He looked down. "You only have about three more months before you can't buy me any more ice cream. I'll be buying my own, like a real man."

It was Ricks turn to smile and he did. He loved Carl, hell, he adored the kid. Perfect grades. Loved to read. Never got in trouble, at least that he knew of. He was the dream kid. "Yeah, yeah, you can get whatever you want." Rick looked down at Carls hands, biting his lip. "You're gonna visit us, right? I know its lame to be around your parents but... Judith will miss you." 

"Yeah." Carl nodded, rolling the window down. "Because she is the only reason I've stayed this long." He rolled his eyes, tilting his head up as wind rushed through the car. He turned and looked at Rick when he was silent. He avoided Carls eyes. "Dad." He laughed. "I'm not being serious, I love you and mom, you kn-" 

The radio switched on loudly, static filling their ears. "Rick?" It was a woman's voice. She was calm. "Grimes? You there?" The static shut off and Rick sent Carl a look full of a million apologies. A look Carl knew all too well. 

Rick flipped on his radio. "Yeah, I'm here and on break." He sighed, shaking his head. "What do you need me to do?" Rick reached out and took Carls hand, rubbing his thumb across Carls knuckles. "I got my kid with me so mind what you say." He laughed. It was forced, a pathetic joke to make up for the many times his job let Carl down.

The static was back and a voice was loud on top of it. It gave Carl a headache. Most aspects of Ricks job did that to him. "The big white house on May Street. There was a really bad fight, lasted a good fifteen minutes. One man is unconscious, an ambulance was dispatched, and the other is still on the property, not even trying to hide. At least, that's what the caller said. No weapons spotted." 

Rick nodded. "I'm a few minutes away. I can take it. Thanks." He flipped his radio off and glanced at Carl. "Just a small fight it'll be done in a half an hour and then we can go get some ice cream." He nudged Carl. "I'm sorry. You gotta be sick of hearing it but I am. You deserve a better dad-" 

"It doesn't sound like a small fight." Carl mumbled, playing with his fingers. "A man was knocked out? And they needed an ambulance? That sounds kinda serious." Carl slid his hands across his pants. "Plus, no weapons is almost never true. You almost died because a guy shot you, dad. Should we really take this?" 

"I'm sorry." Rick was saying it to himself at this point. "But training has changed and I've learned more. This isn't a big deal. We just gotta get the story, if the man attacked him we lock him up and drive him back to the station-" 

"And then the paperwork begins." Carl sunk down in his seat, looking out the window. "Don't worry about the ice cream. We can just go home after, okay?" Carl put his feet up on the dashboard and stretched his arms above his head again. "Really, it's okay, I promise. I need to stud-" 

Rick nodded. "I'm sorry." He whispered. It was like song, playing over and over on the radio. Carl fought the urge to tell his dad that he knew. That he spent his younger years crying because his dad was never around. He just nodded and smiled. Like always.

The street the disturbance happened on was long and covered in rocks. It was one of the more forgotten about places in the area. The houses were more spread out and everyone owned more land, there wasn't really a need to come down there unless something like this happened. Everyone kept to themselves. Carl assumed thats why most of the people lived there anyway. To be spread out and away from the town. He wondered what it would be like, if he would love it or hate it. They lived in the heart of town, everyone knew everyone. It was sort of annoying. 

"Your mom and I almost got one of these houses." Rick stated as he slowed down. The house they were going to was on the very end of the street. They had a barn and a small pond behind the house along with about a mile of forest behind it. "She wanted to have a big house like on TV. Where she could do whatever she wanted while we waited for you." 

Carl made a face, shaking his head. "That's gross. Plus, I like where we live. We have a tire swing that surprisingly hasn't broke yet." He started to roll his window up, looking at each house. "I like it down here, though. The houses are all different colors. The ones on our road all match. Sometimes I think I'm going into the neighbors yard instead of our own." 

"This street is a bit more... independent." Rick pointed at a grey house. "He has more guns than you can count. And he's in his 80s. And the lady's house we just passed, blue one on the right? She goes hunting with Rod and they skin the deer and stuff in her basement. And the yellow one up there, the one with all the yard gnomes, she was in jail for five years for growing pot in her neighbors yard." 

"These people don't sound independent. They just sound... I don't know. It's not weird to hunt and smoke weed. Everyone's done it." Carl groaned when his dad glanced at him. "Everyone but me has done it. And the gun thing? That's just a straight white man thing. Me man. Me want big guns to prove me man." He shook his head. "From what it sounds like blue house lady and arsenal man are the people you wanna go to if there was a zombie apocalypse." 

Rick shook his head, parking a few houses down from the white house at the end of the road. "You read too many of those comics. Zombies don't exist. It's impossible. The real monsters are those, it's people like this. Beating people up until they pass out." Rick pulled Carl towards him and kissing his head. "I'm gonna go get the dude. You stay here. And if you see it go south-"

"Get in the driver's seat and drive away, once I'm a mile away stop and call for back up. Dad. I know. We've been doing this for years." Carl watched his dad climb out before rolling his window down. "I think saying that he's a monster is a little dramatic. Maybe the dude tried to steal his chicken or something." 

Rick waved him off, yelling at him to roll the window up. Carl rolled his eyes and rolled the window back up, locking the car. He grabbed the straps of his backpack and yanked it up, unzipping it and pulling out a comic book. He put his legs on the dash and sunk down in his seat, balancing the book on his lap. He stared at the cover before opening the book up and beginning to read. He played with each page as he read it, chewing on his bottom lip. 

He studied the colors and the shades. He read over the words a million times, too. But it never stopped being interesting. He memorized the way each panel was set up, the way each person was drawn and why they were drawn that way. This was art to him. Not just words and not just pictures. Both. Carl never told anyone but that's what he wanted his job to be when he was older. That's what he wanted to do in college. But if his mom knew she would kill him and his dad... his dad would just be sad he didn't follow in whatever Rick was doing. 

Carls family had an obsession with normal. His mom always wanted to be like the families on TV. Where the house was always clean and dinner was at the same time every night and there were no fights ever. Just conversations. His mom didn't do that part well. She yelled at his dad a lot. But as long as she was the one doing it, it was okay. Carl hated it. That she wanted them to be the perfect family. No flaws. 

Carl liked the dark things. He liked listening to the boys at school talk about the violent video games his mother never allowed him to have. He liked sneaking out and stumbling through the woods, looking for any imperfect thing he could find. He seemed like the perfect son, with perfect grades and a bright smile on his face, but he wasn't. It didn't matter, though. As long as his mom never knew. 

If she did it would be bad. If she knew that Carl would hurt himself just to feel the sting of pain, as if it was some game. If she knew that he wasn't a virgin with a pretty girlfriend but instead would sneak out and fuck his teachers at their houses. Carl was dirty and imperfect and if you read between the lines you could see it. Maybe his mom did see it, and just pretended that she didn't see the hooded eyes and knives hidden in his room. That she just pretended that he was perfect, just like everyone else. 

Carl liked comics, but not the superhero kind. He liked the violent ones that told stories everyone else was afraid to tell. He liked the blood and the gore and the wrongness of it all. Part of him was glad his mother was so protective. So obsessed with perfection. Without it Carl would have never had these urges. He would have never looked at things he wasn't supposed to and realized how dark he was. Carl enjoyed his darkness, though, it was comforting. 

Rick came back about fifteen minutes later with a man in a white shirt following behind, reluctantly. His father seemed frustrated, then again he always looked that away. Unless he was looking at Carl or Judith. The man seemed annoyed but calm. His arms were drawn back and locked in handcuffs, his shoulders standing wide, muscles pressing against the tight fabric of his shirt. Little drops of blood stained the white shirt and a split lip stood out against the man's face. His hair was black and slicked back. Carl found himself sitting up straight in his seat, dropping his comic book in his bag. 

This man was his wet dream, or even better, this man was straight out of his comics. A smirk thats sharp like a knife and a shirt covered in blood. Slicked back hair and hooded eyes. Bruised knuckles and old enough to be his daddy. He was dirty and bad and wrong and that was just how Carl liked it. Some would say its sick, Carl would just say it's interesting. Carl couldn't take his eyes off him. The fact that his dad was arresting him only made it better. Carl bit his lip and balled his hands onto fists, digging his nails into his palms. 

Rick unlocked the car and pulled open the back door. "Get in. Make this easy on me. Because I will force you." He looked at Carl. "Keep your eyes on the dashboard. You don't wanna see this get bad." Carl could barely picture his dad yelling at the man, let alone getting "bad" with someone. Carl still listened through, turning back around and looking at the rearview mirror. The man had a black eye and a small bruise on his cheek. This just keeps getting better. 

The man climbed into the car, rolling his eyes when Rick slammed it shut. "He really likes to assert his dominance, doesn't he?" He looked through the bars into the mirror at Carl. "You must be his kid. He act like this all the time? All bossy and angry. As if he could do anything other than slam doors and threaten people." He looked out the window at him. "I could break him." 

Carl looked back at him, smirking. "Why didn't you then?" He looked at his shirt closer this time. A small name tag read "Negan" in black letters. The owner of the car shop down the road. Carl sat up straighter and studied Negan. The stubble on his chin that had hints of grey. Carl wondered if it would tickle or hurt when they kissed. Or when Carls legs wrapped around his neck while Negan went down on him. Both sounded really nice. "You beat that other man easily." 

"That man deserved it. He was being an asshole and assholes deserve to get beat." Negan looked back at Carl. "Your dad is just a little man who thinks he is much stronger than he really is. And he's done nothing to warrant a beating. We still have a twenty minute car ride, so hopefully things change." Negan smirked when Carls eyes widen. "Yeah, I like beating people. Feeling the crack of bone against my knuckles. It's downright orgasmic, kid." 

"I wouldn't know." Carl replied, sinking back into his seat. "I've never gotten into a fight." He wanted to. He wanted to hurt people and feel them twitch against him and beg him to stop. He wanted to be powerful. Carl shook his head and looked at the drivers side door. His dad stood outside of it now, pacing back and forth. "Sounds cool, though." 

"I know." Negan spread his legs and leaned back against the middle of the seat. He was comfortable. Moving around the car as if he had been in it a million times. "I'm pretty damn impressive. Gets me all the girls." He licked his lips and winked at Carl. "Think it could get me a few boys?" 

Carl bit his lip, his cheeks heating up. He crossed his legs and leaned into his seat. "I don't know." Carl adjusted the mirror, looking at Negans lips. "Maybe. Depends how badass you really are." He put the mirror back and smiled when his dad climbed into the car. "Hey." He looked back at Negan. "I saw You. You looked really cool." 

Rick smiled, adjusting his shirt. "Thanks. Big guy back there put up a hell of a fight. Thank god I won." Rick started the car again and backed out, looking back past Negan. Who was studying Carl through the mirror. Ricks eyes narrowed and he reached over, jerking the mirror to the side so Negan couldn't see anything. "Eyes off my son. Understood?" 

Negan raised his eyebrows. "Look, you can't blame me for finding him hot. You're the one who created him and you're the one who left him alone in the car with one very... very bad man." He leaned towards the black bars that separated the front and back of the car. "I could've torn him apart in every way you could imagine. But I didn't and I honestly deserve a good medal for keeping it in my pants. Have you seen him?"

"Yeah, every day since he's been born." Rick rolled his eyes and began to drive down the road, shaking his head. "Ignore him. He's just some asshole who wants to piss me off." His grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. 

"Seems like it's working, too." Negan chuckled. "You know your boy, the prim and proper cops son, adjusted that mirror just so he could stare at my lips. Now, I know you raised him, but did you do anything to cause daddy issues? Because that boy has it written all over him." 

"Shut up!" Rick snapped. "He's not like you. He's good. Hes clean. And he doesn't beat other people just for saying something they don't agree with. So keep your eyes and your disgusting thoughts to yourself. He's young-" 

"That's what I like about it." Negans voice was calm and thick like honey. Carl felt himself blushing. "He's all young. Hopefully a virgin but not likely. He's got bruises on his wrists. You know what that means, officer? It means dirty old men like me have gotten the privilege to enjoy your little boy. Not so innocent anymore, huh?" 

Carl shot Negan a glare. "Dad, ignore him. He's just some guy." He pulled his sleeves down, taking a deep breath. He always tells them not to leave marks. But sometimes they don't care. Other times Carl doesn't care. He wears their marks like they were a diamond ring. "Just-" 

"Shut up." Rick looked at Carl. "The police station is only a few minutes away and I really don't want to have this conversation the entire way there." He looked back at Negan. "All you need to know is that you're lucky my kids 18." 

"Don't I know it." Negan grinned. "Barely jail bait is my favorite. All young and tight... want nothing more than a cock filling them up." 

Carl squirmed in his seat, grabbing at the door handle on the passenger side car. He looked back at Negan over his shoulder, biting his lip. He looked Negan up and down before turning back to the road. Negan was a lucky man. Dirty old men were Carls type.


End file.
